**Chapter 110: 46. Demon**
Snakehead Street was still as dirty and chaotic as ever. Fortunately, Fisher had come in the afternoon for the past few times; if he had come at night, it would have truly been a “lively” scene.
At that time, the filthy street would be filled with either drug addicts, smugglers peddling various rare products, or ladies selling their services for the night.
The environment here was terrible; public facilities were practically non-existent, and all sorts of crimes festered in this place. Even the police chief had been robbed, leaving only his underpants, which was why Old Jack was seriously considering moving away. This place was far too unsuitable for his three lovely granddaughters.
When Fisher pushed open the door to Old Jack’s bar, he found the scarred old man staring blankly at the entrance. He finally breathed a sigh of relief when the gentleman with the staff arrived before him, looking as if he was thanking the heavens.
“Thank goodness I have you as a friend to help out; otherwise, I would have had to throw her out. But she is still a lady; lying here on Snakehead Street all night, she’d probably not even have her bones left.”
Old Jack spoke dismissively, but this couldn’t hide his goodwill towards the guest. After all, he had three subhuman children. Although he initially held many prejudices against the subhuman race, after spending time together, he found it hard to keep up the facade of prejudice, often giving in to the requests of those three lovely girls who wanted to buy nuts.
Fisher chuckled, took off his top hat, and asked, “Where is that subhuman?”
“Over here, follow me.”
This time, Old Jack did not lead Fisher to the basement but instead placed the subhuman in the storeroom at the back of the bar. He didn’t feel safe leaving this unidentified lady alone with the three ratfolk girls.
As the storeroom door opened, a cramped space came into view. Inside, the space was entirely occupied by a wheat-skinned female subhuman. She had long red hair and was breathing rhythmically with her eyes closed, clearly fast asleep.
The entire storeroom was permeated with a strong scent of alcohol and sulfur; it was hard to tell if the sulfur odor was coming from the subhuman in front of him.
Upon closer examination, Fisher noticed that the subhuman had healthy skin and an impressive appearance, draped in a cloak that was now open due to her sleeping, revealing a cool binding outfit and long pants underneath. Her bare abdomen showcased pronounced muscle lines, evidently built from long-term training, appearing stronger than many men.
After a detailed observation, Fisher discovered that the subhuman had two curved blades wrapped in wooden sheaths hidden behind her cloak. The curvature of the blades was bizarre; he had never seen weapons like them before. One blade was longer while the shorter one featured intricate black patterns, looking far more exquisite than the longer one.
But what truly caught Fisher’s attention were the subhuman’s unique physical traits. Four twisted, obsidian-like horns grew irregularly from her red hair, shimmering with luscious patterns reminiscent of flowing lava. Moreover, from within her cloak extended a long, thin tail that ended in a pointed arrowhead.
The subhuman’s characteristics were striking, yet Fisher had never encountered this particular type of subhuman. He had read all known records concerning subhumans and yet, there was not a single book that documented this species.
“She came here the day before yesterday and has been sleeping since she got drunk that night?”
“Yeah,” Old Jack said, his tone slightly annoyed. He cast a glance at the subhuman sprawled on the floor, mouth agape in deep sleep; if it weren’t for her continuous breathing, he might have thought she had drunk herself to death in his bar. “She had three big cups of rum, two bottles of distilled liquor, then just dropped on the table without moving, and hasn’t paid!”
“She hasn’t woken up even once?”
“Who knows? I’ve got things to do, can’t keep an eye on her all the time. Anyway, since she fell asleep, she’s hardly moved a muscle, so I doubt she woke up.” Just as Old Jack was about to continue, the door to the basement outside suddenly rattled. He paused, looked over, and said, “Oh, Kalma and the others told me to let you watch her for a bit, see if you can wake her up, or if you’re interested, you can even take her away. I know you love studying these subhumans.”
Fisher did not respond; he simply moved closer to the sleeping subhuman and squatted down. He reached out and touched the female subhuman’s abdomen, finding the muscles incredibly hard, like refined iron hammered by a blacksmith. Her small navel moved slightly with her breathing.
According to Old Jack, he had nearly slapped this subhuman awake. How could she sleep so soundly without stirring at all?
Fisher had never seen such a uniquely featured subhuman. Seeing no movement from her, he withdrew his Supplement Handbook for Sub-Humans, preparing to use the guide to determine what type of subhuman he was looking at.
Previously, in the Southern Continent, Fisher had discovered many unnamed subhumans, and even if he didn’t recognize one, the handbook would help him identify it, provided that the subhuman being observed was female.
As the handbook opened, ethereal letters appeared before Fisher. Among the many pages after “Dragon,” a new column appeared out of thin air, with golden text automatically written in a language Fisher could understand. It read:
**[Demon].**
Fisher’s eyes moved slightly as he looked at the following text:
**[Please select research subject; available subjects 0/1]**
Huh?
Why was the available subject number two when researching Dragons and Sorceresses, but only one for other races? Was it because it was related to the Apocalypse Prophecy? If it was a species documented in the Apocalypse Prophecy, an extra slot would appear!
Having discovered some kind of pattern, Fisher continued reading the ethereal text below:
**[Eil, the Duke Demon]**
**[Contributor’s Note: Researching higher-tier subhumans will entail higher risks and rewards; please choose wisely.]**
Higher-tier subhuman?
This was the first time Fisher had received such a special evaluation from the handbook, and he had never heard the term “Demon” before. Up until now, his understanding of demons had come solely from the ancient myths preserved by the Church—traditional images of those ugly monsters who sought to deceive.
And now, in front of him…
Fisher looked up, just as he was about to examine the demon’s appearance, only to find that the demon had opened her eyes and was staring at him.
Her eyes were not like those of a human; instead, they were bright, flaming red, resembling glowing rocks, with circular patterns like fire serpents swirling within her pupils.
She gazed quietly at Fisher, and though the temperature in the room was much warmer than outside, he suddenly felt a chill under her watchful stare.
But in the next moment, that biting cold vanished. The demon, lying still, wrinkled her nose and said to Fisher,
“Um, you have a distasteful scent, and it’s twofold.”
She was speaking Nali, but her style didn’t sound like that of a conventional Nali; it came out as indistinct and jumbled, resembling bubbling lava.
Fisher was still holding the Supplement Handbook for Sub-Humans, but she seemed unaware of his object and instead scrutinized his face intently.
“Distasteful scent?”
Eil did not get up. After several seconds of observing him, she yawned and nodded, saying,
“Ah, probably like the smell of burnt volcano worms with no seasoning. It’s just really unpleasant, ugh…”
By the end of her statement, she yawned again, appearing drowsy, then pointed at Fisher with her finger, saying,
“But the scent on you isn’t like the person I’m looking for. Just bear with it. By the way, where am I? Why do I feel like my memory is a bit hazy? Um, why did I come here? To drink? Or to sleep?”
She struggled to clear her mind, then seemed to abandon the effort, slumping again against the pile of junk behind her, changing to a comfortable position, preparing to close her eyes again.
“Forget it, I can’t be bothered to think, better just sleep a little longer; after all, sleeping is really nice. Good night, human, don’t see you out.”
Fisher could not let this character continue sleeping. Taking the opportunity, he tucked the handbook back into his cloak and said to her,
“You drank here the day before yesterday and have been sleeping for almost two days. If you don’t get up, the owner’s going to throw you out.”
After he said this, the demon remained motionless, but her tail suddenly perked up. At that moment, Fisher noticed that an orb of fire had begun to flicker at the end of her arrowheaded tail.
Hmm, do demon kinds ignite their tails when conscious?
“Ah, right. Let me think about why I came here. So annoying, why do I have to ponder these things.”
She stared vacantly at the storeroom ceiling for a long time before she sat up, rubbing her head, suddenly exclaiming,
“Ah, I remember now. I came here to hunt down a criminal, but since hunting down criminals is too troublesome, I planned to have a drink first before heading out. After drinking, I felt too tired and just ended up falling asleep in the bar. Ah, thanks for the reminder, I need to get back to work now; let me pay you.”
Though she said that, she didn’t seem remotely motivated, lacking any interest in the so-called “work.” However, at this moment, it seemed she had finally awoken a bit from her drowsiness. Instinctively, she reached into the pocket of her binding outfit but couldn’t find anything. Suddenly, her expression turned unnatural.
She furtively glanced at Fisher, sensing his gaze, then looked around the cramped environment. Her face stiffened further.
Fisher seemed to have realized something. He glanced at her evasive gaze before suddenly guessing,
“You don’t have any money to pay for the drinks, do you?”
(End of Chapter)
